


Butterfield's Counsellor

by rafestark



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4043131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rafestark/pseuds/rafestark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Lindsey Willows' experience, school counsellors don't encourage you to fight. But then, Miss Summers is no ordinary counsellor</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterfield's Counsellor

_Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and CSI: Crime Scene Investigation are copyright and not created or owned by me. References to characters, episodes and all other intellectual property related to these shows below are made for entertainment only and I do not profit from it in any way._

 

“Take a seat, Lindsey.”

The teenager dropped her bag next to the counsellor’s desk with a sigh and dropped into the seat facing it. They sat in silence for a few moments. Lindsey was staring at the desk, refusing to meet the eyes she was sure were staring at her sternly. She’d never met the new school counsellor, but they were always the same. Boring speeches about meeting your potential, kind but disappointed looks, tissues and study timetables. Never anything useful.

After a few more minutes she squirmed in her seat and finally looked up to glare at the counsellor, and maybe stare her down and prove that the older woman wouldn’t win the ‘make the kid talk first’ tactic she was trying.

Except she wasn’t. The counsellor was completely ignoring Lindsey and was in the process of painting her fingernails. When the last finger was done, the counsellor held her hand up to admire the finish and blew on them lightly before screwing the lid back on the polish.

“Much better.” The teacher smiled brightly at her. “I did a new coat yesterday and it got chipped when I was out last night, it’s been pissing me off all day. So. Lindsey…Willows. You were sent here for fighting?” She asked. Lindsey was suspicious of some unforeseen battle of wills – the woman wasn’t looking at her kindly or in disappointment. In fact, she just looked…interested.

“Uh, yeah.” Lindsey confirmed with a nod. That was good. The less she said, the less this teacher could use her own words against her.

“How come? I mean, Miss Dalloway tells me you were scrappin’ for fifteen minutes, sounds like there’s a bit of angst there.” The teacher propped her head on one hand, cocked to one side, looking more like a friend out for gossip than someone about to suspend her. Lindsey began to relax infinitesimally.

“James is an asshat.” She asserted, testing the new teacher’s limits.

“And a bad fighter.” Summers nodded agreement. “Did he pull your hair, or is that just the new style?” She gestured at Lindsey’s usually immaculate locks that were now in disarray. Lindsey scowled.

“He’s a hair puller alright.”

“Right. So you could have finished the fight in seconds flat by kicking him in the nuts. But you dragged it out for fifteen minutes. How come?” The older blonde sat back, being careful not to touch her nails to anything. Lindsey squirmed in her chair for a few seconds as she considered an answer, starting to wish she had just been suspended. Thinking through her own actions was rarely her favourite activity.

“It felt good.” Lindsey shrugged.

“Well so does masturbating, but you don’t do that in the middle of the cafeteria.” The teacher answered. Lindsey’s eyes shot up to hers, shocked. Seeing the wry grin she was greeted with, the teen laughed.

“You’re not like the other kids said you were.” She pointed out after a second.

“What did they say?” The counsellor asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Andrew says you scared the crap out of him.” She admitted. Miss Summers started laughing.

“That’s because he was using my office to skip class. And lied about it. And was staring really obviously at my ass.” The teacher explained.

“Sounds like Andrew.” Lindsey agreed.

“So what are we going to do about your fighting?” The older blonde asked. This part Lindsey knew – the part where you told a teacher what they wanted to hear.

“Stop fighting. Talk to you if I have any problems.” Lindsey rattled off.

“Pssht, no.” Her counsellor waved a hand dismissively. “Well, don’t get me wrong…” She added at the appalled look on Lindsey’s face, “you’re welcome to come talk to me any time if you need my help. But I think it’s better if you try and find a solution yourself first, assuming its an appropriate one. One that doesn’t get you suspended. And stopping fighting is a terrible idea – it will just give you all the same anger and frustration without any outlet.”

“Um. So you’re like, giving me permission to beat up my classmates?” The girl asked incredulously.

“No, no. You can’t just beat up whoever you feel like. I’m explaining this badly – I don't mean keep fighting your classmates. What I mean is, you have all this anger and frustration and because you keep trying to keep it under control, it just bursts out when things are bad or something sets you off, right?”

“I guess so.” The girl acknowledged with a frown.

“So I’m saying you should have an outlet for that – a way to express your feelings at a time that is appropriate and structured.”

“You’re not going to make me do Art or something are you? I’m terrible at Art.” Lindsey winced, remember the horror on various art teacher’s faces over the years.

“Huh?” The older woman looked confused. “No…no art. I was going to suggest we teach you how to fight properly. Self-defense classes.” She picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to the younger woman. “Show it to your mom, you’ll need her permission if you’re interested. My number’s at the bottom, she can call me if she has any questions.”

“Wow. Um…thanks, Miss Summers.”

“Buffy is fine.” The teacher shrugged. “Now scoot. Go learn, be free. Become a contributing member of society, whatever.” She shooed the girl off.

 

“You invited a normal girl to slayer-school?” Xander asked her sceptically. “Isn’t she likely to get a little…beaten to death?”

“Nah.” Buffy waved off his concern. “Our slayers need to learn control and judging their strength. We have all sorts of padding and stuff. Besides, you and Dawn learned with us just fine.”

Xander recalled the many evenings after their lessons or patrolling for demons laying down with an icepack and dreading the thought of having to work the next day.

"Alright." He finally accepted. "As long as you're sure she won't draw unwanted attention to us."

"It's one girl." Buffy pointed out with a blithe disregard she would later remember and regret. "How much attention could she draw?"


End file.
